


Omlettes

by Scentsationalhands



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:43:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11517093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scentsationalhands/pseuds/Scentsationalhands
Summary: Some reflection on Oliver's culinary prowess...





	Omlettes

**Author's Note:**

> Post season 5. More notes at the end.  
> Written on my phone as a flash fic with no beta, sorry for any mistakes.

Despite growing up with a live-in maid and cook, he's always known how to cook a little.

Omlettes were always a great hangover cure, and Raisa secretly taught him to make them when he was 15 after she found him and Tommy passed out on the kitchen island. After that night there were always prepped veggies and grated cheese ready for him to throw in.  
And always a bottle of aspirin and water hidden in his bathroom.

On the island his cooking was basically just cooked or uncooked, though everything he made was well cooked without being burnt, and tasted much better than what Yao Fei presented.

In Hong Kong Tatsu cooked for him. And once he learned to do his laundry she gave him enough trust to use the stove without worrying he would burn the place down. Which in all fairness, was a valid concern considering Akio had to teach him to tell him to separate the colors and change the water settings for the loads after his first attempt at laundry left him with pink underwear.  
Anyway, as he became a member of the Yamashiro family and not ARGUS captive/unwanted houseguest, he opted to make breakfast one morning. A simple omlettes made with the left over veggies from the night before. Tatsu was grateful, since Akio loved it, veggies and all with no complaining, and asked him to make American breakfast once a week.

Back on Lian Yu his food went back to very bland again. And the only time he cooked was when he caught game on the way to see Tiana and helped her cook it over her small cave fire. But protecting her, cooking for her, it eased the guilt about Vlad. Made him feel human again, if only slightly.

Russia was met with eating whatever was given to him and gaining a huge tolerance for Vodka.

When he came back to Starling he kept his diet bland at first, to keep up the ruse. Then he lived at home and Raisa was a magician in the kitchen, he never had to worry about it. It wasn't until after his run in with Vertigo that he realized she picked up the habit again of having everything ready for omlettes. He knew it was just one of her ways of letting him know she cares for him.   
By the time he was no longer living at home he was in the foundry living off of take out. No time to think of cooking anymore.

So when he settled in Ivy Town with Felicity, he figured he could handle learning to really cook. The first thing he ever made her was breakfast in bed. A large coffee and a perfect omlette. She loved it and thanked him so thoroughly they needed a fresh pot of coffee since the first pot had gone cold.

So he kept cooking. It surprised him at first, how calming it was for him. But it made him feel like he could still provide something for Felicity since he was no longer rich or the Arrow. He remembered fondly how Raisa put so much love in all her cooking and he strived to do the same.

The first meal he made for William when they got back to Star City was an omlette. They had spent a few days in China at an Argus safe house, and then been flown home. Lyla had managed to get all the custody paperwork taken care of for him. Keeping busy with that was her way of functioning while the Argus team scoured the Island for survivors. Her way of picking up the peices of her broken heart when it was confirmed that there were no survivors. They boy hadn't eaten much, still in shock from his kidnapping and the freshness of his mother's death. Oliver couldn't really get through to him and of coarse he was stuck in his own pain. His brother in arms, his sister, his new team, Quintin, who honestly had become quite the father figure. Most of all, his Felicity. His love, his hope, his future was on that island. No grave for him to visit. So he did the only thing he knew how to bridge a gap with his son and let him know he cared, he cooked him a perfect omlette.

It became a thing. 3-4 times a week they had omlettes for breakfast and occasionally for dinner. It seemed to be the only way to get William to eat vegetables without a fuss, the only food he didn't compare to how Samantha had made it.

So when William woke up in the middle of the night to the smell of burnt eggs he was confused. Oliver was a great cook and had never made anything besides perfect eggs.  
As William came downstairs to the kitchen, his confusion switched disbleif. Oliver was sitting at the kitchen counter, eating a burnt omlette with a sad smile on his lips and tears streaming down his face.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

He wiped away the tears as he turned to face his son. "Yeah buddy, I will be."

William hadn't seen Oliver cry like this since they came to Star City, but he avoided asking him what the tears we're for and instead asked about the omlette, hoping to distract his father from the pain. A plan that seemed to backfire.

"Dad, why are you eating a burnt omlette? How did you even burn it, I've never seen you burn food."

The tears welled in his eyes again, this time the smile was stronger.

"You know how you have your mom's shampoo in your bathroom, as a way to remind you of her? Well, this loft his my reminder of Felicity. Tonight it wasn't enough. Tonight was the anniversary of when I was going to propose the first time. That morning Felicity went through 2 or 3 dozen eggs, determined to make the perfect omlette. She burned every single one. She never learned to make them, I just... I don't know, I figured to smell of burnt food, the taste of it would make me feel like she was here with me."

At that explanation a soft cry could be heard from the downstairs guest room. Donna had come to town to take care of Quintin's home and things, he had left her everything in his will. But she couldn't stay there, it was too much without him. So she had stayed with Oliver, so they could mourn together.

"Oh Sweetie... If you ever need something burnt to feel like Felicity is still here, I'd be happy to cook for you. But just don't make me eat it too."

They sat at the counter hugging and crying, remembering the bright light that they had shared in Felicity. 

After making a few perfect, and edible omlettles, Oliver sat again and William finally spoke up again. "Dad, when we cleaned out the house I grabbed mom's family recipe book from the kitchen, do you think you could learn to cook some of her recipes?"

"Yeah buddy," he said with a deep sigh as he pulled him in for a hug, "why don't we learn them together."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This idea just wouldn't leave me alone. I use writing as a way to process through my own emotions a lot of the time and today I was just really missing my mom.  
> That usually leads me to cooking something that was distincly hers growing up, and somehow eating her food makes it feel like she's with me still, I thought Oliver would feel the same.


End file.
